


Irrevocably

by DobbyRocksSocks



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Friendship turned more, M/M, Mention of Mary being not very good, Our boys are so soft, Sharing a Bed, They love each other so much, but mostly just fluff. so much fluff., hand holding, the softest of fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:09:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29760828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DobbyRocksSocks/pseuds/DobbyRocksSocks
Summary: It had been a long time coming, in all truth, but John had finally started to understand the depth of his feelings for Sherlock.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 72





	Irrevocably

John stared at the bed for a long moment before he shrugged, dropping the bags onto the single armchair. He was too tired to care that he was going to have to share with Sherlock, and honestly, it wasn't the first time; it was unlikely to be the last.

"I can ring down to reception," Sherlock offered quietly, closing the door behind him. "Or sleep in the chair."

John rolled his eyes. "Don't be an idiot."

And that was that, as far as John was concerned anyway.

Sherlock's brow was furrowed softly and he was watching John curiously, like he was a puzzle that Sherlock hadn't solved a million times already.

John puttered around the small hotel room, opening his bags to gather the supplies for a quick shower before he gave into the ever growing insistent need to sleep. He'd been awake entirely too long.

"You can take the first shower," Sherlock said eventually. "You look exhausted."

John chuckled, patting Sherlock's arm as he slid past him. "Cheers pal."

…

"Are you hungry?"

John blinked at Sherlock, the words taking a moment to sink into his beyond exhausted mind.

"Uh. Probably," he offered. "Too tired to eat though. I'll go hunt us breakfast in the morning instead."

Sherlock nodded and got up off the bed where he'd been lounging. When they crossed paths, Sherlock lifted his hand and let it fall onto John's shoulder for a moment. He squeezed gently.

"Thank you. For today. That was. Good."

John watched, completely bemused, as Sherlock disappeared into the ensuite, the door closing behind him with a soft click.

Whatever he'd done to earn the thanks, he didn't know, but he wasn't up to trying to figure out how Sherlock's brain worked tonight.

Instead, he slid under the blankets and sighed happily as his head sunk into the plush pillow, his eyes falling closed almost immediately. He dozed in the happy space between awake and asleep until the door of the ensuite opened and a few moments later, the bed dipped beside him, as Sherlock crawled in.

They were both still for a moment, before Sherlock huffed and flipped himself over, his hand falling to rest over John's wrist.

"Goodnight, John."

"Hm. Night, Sherlock."

…

John didn't think he'd had nearly enough sleep when he was suddenly awake, disoriented and confused as to what had woken him.

He was about to turn over and go back to sleep when Sherlock whimpered beside him. John turned his head to find his best friend trembling beside him, clearly in the throes of a nightmare.

Sighing, John shifted closer, quietly saying his name. He shook Sherlock's arm gently until finally, Sherlock's eyes flew open. He was still for a long moment as he took stock of where he was, and then he finally turned to look at John.

"You okay?" John asked, voice rough with sleep and the still lingering exhaustion.

"Sorry," Sherlock murmured.

John shook his head. "S'fine. D'you wanna talk about it?"

Sherlock grimaced. "No."

"Hm, kay. C'mere."

He offered his arms, and Sherlock barely hesitated before he shuffled closer, until his head was resting on John's chest, John's arms wrapped around him, one on his arm and one in his hair, playing with the soft strands.

"This is my favourite sound," Sherlock said, just before John could drift back into sleep.

"Hmm? What is?"

"Your heartbeat," Sherlock replied. "Means you're here with me. Alive. Okay. It's good. It's… yes. Good."

John thought his heart might _melt_ at such an admission and he squeezed Sherlock, holding him tighter. "M'always gonna be right here. With you."

Sherlock didn't reply, but he seemed to relax even more against John, and John fell back asleep with a smile on his face.

…

When John woke up to find the sun streaming in through the gap in the curtains, he expected to be alone. Sherlock never slept as long as he did, and the few times they'd shared a bed in the past, Sherlock had always been gone by the time John woke in the morning.

Except Sherlock was still there, his head still pillowed on John's chest, despite clearly having been awake for a while. He was lightly drawing patterns on John's stomach, so lightly that John could just barely feel it through his threadbare sleep t-shirt.

John brushed his hand through Sherlock's curls. "Morning."

Sherlock shifted, peering up at John through long eyelashes, and John smiled at him.

"Morning John."

"Did you sleep well?"

Sherlock nodded and then with a heaving sigh, he moved, stretching out luxuriously before he curled onto his side facing John.

"Did you?"

"I did, though I don't think much of this bed. Too firm. It'll be good to be home."

"There's a train at three," Sherlock said, his lips tilting up. They were silent for a moment, and then Sherlock got a curious look on his face. "You've been different these last few months."

"Have I?" John asked, smiling.

He had, he knew, but he'd wondered how long it would take Sherlock to bring it up. It had been a long time coming, in all truth, but John had _finally_ started to understand the depth of his feelings for Sherlock.

It wasn't even that he wanted anything to change; more that he'd realised he'd never be happier than when he was with his genius. He'd accepted that his attempts at normality were both futile and idiotic, when he didn't want _normal._

He already had what he wanted.

"I like it," Sherlock added quietly.

Leaning over, John pressed a gentle kiss to Sherlock's temple. "I like it too. Come on, let's get ready and go and hunt down some breakfast, hmm? I'm bloody starving now."

Chuckling, Sherlock nodded.

…

John didn't realise he'd put his hand on Sherlock's thigh until Sherlock began playing with the tips of his fingers, absently tracing around them and over them, a look of concentration on his face.

Not that John was going to complain that Sherlock had found something to entertain him on the train; bad things tended to happen when Sherlock grew too bored after all.

John watched the scenery rush by the window with a small smile on his face.

"You haven't been dating," Sherlock said, seemingly from nowhere. "I calculated that once the shock of Mary wore off, you'd return to dating within six months of moving back to Baker Street."

John wrinkled his nose. 'The shock of Mary' was certainly one way to put it; he was only grateful that she'd been found out before he could marry her. Besides, hadn't he wanted to move _home_ almost as soon as Sherlock had returned.

Once the anger had settled, John had only felt a strong sense of longing.

Shrugging, John just said, "I haven't felt the inclination."

"No? You're a sociable man, a man that likes to touch and be touched, a man that enjoys romance and the idea of falling in love. John, did something happen? Is there something wrong?"

John frowned and shook his head. "No, of course not. I'm plenty sociable still, I went out with Greg just a few days ago. And touch," he glanced down at Sherlock's thigh, where their hands were now entwined, Sherlock's over Johns. "I don't think I'm lacking in that, do you?"

Sherlock's eyes widened and he fell silent once more. John turned his attention back to the window.

Sentiment was still difficult for Sherlock, he knew, though he was growing more confident with it.

He'd get there.

…

"Come to bed, John?" Sherlock asked softly.

John looked up from the book he'd been reading and watched Sherlock for a moment before he nodded. "Okay."

They did their nightly routines side by side as they often did, and when Sherlock climbed into bed, John was only a few steps behind him, settling on his side facing his best friend.

"Did you like Sussex?" Sherlock asked, as he slid his hand into John's between them.

John nodded. "The parts we saw. I'd like to go back there someday."

Sherlock smiled. "I always thought that I'd retire there. Is that… something you think you'd be interested in?"

John grinned back. "Maybe we could get a dog," he offered.

"And bees," Sherlock said. "I'd like to keep bees."

"Of course you would," John chuckled. "Whatever you want, Sherlock. I'm not going anywhere."

They fell asleep like that, facing one another with their hands joined between them.

…

"John?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you… are you mine?"

John looked up and smiled. "Irrevocably."


End file.
